"I dunno," she says. "Depends on how the job goes. Might not stick around if it turns to shit, you know?" She sips her drink, watching his face for a reaction.
"Uh huh." His expression is momentarily a touch envious, if only for the freedom she seems to have, before it returns to something more placid. "Well, be careful you don't get turned around and end up back here. I was on the way out for a while, and yet."
"Sounded funny in my head." She's good at reading people, but not that good. She suspects she's touched a nerve, but she's not sure which. If he's really paying alimony, that'd be funny, and a little sexy. She wonders how big his dick is.
"I prefer not to," he says, and has a demure little sip of his drink. "I did have a cousin, though. Everyone called him Heinz, 'cause he said he knew fifty-seven dance steps no one else had ever done before."
Joan puts her head on her palm. “So it’s just your smart mouth romancin’ me?” She lets some of her accent out, mostly because he doesn’t seem to be able to stop with the folksy shit.
She looks at him with a skeptical expression, trying to get a read on this line of conversation and failing. "Can't imagine me being anything else. I like the work. Not so much the co-workers."
He snorts a laugh, and a moment later decides to swallow the rest of his drink and flag down Lindsey for another. "Deputy US Marshal. So, not a gravedigger."
Digging coal means he was poor, she suspects, and he's not afraid of hard work. It's attractive, not that she lets that show on her face. "Funny to lie? I see how it is. What's day to day like for a US Marshal?"
"Funny to think of myself as a gravedigger." He has a good think about the question, though, frowning into the distance for a moment. "Well, Lexington's a small office, so we share tasks. There's low level shit like prisoner transport, judicial protection, witness protection, that kinda thing. Then there's fugitives, so, y'know, trackin' 'em down. Managing assets is pretty fun," he adds. "That's when the courts seize property durin' a trial and we gotta look after it."
"Oh, I know. My oldest brother was a cop. Probably still is." She rolls her shoulder in a casual shrug, her eyes briefly scanning the bar's floor. "His whiskeydick best friend scored a lotta free coke that way."
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"Can you dance in a circle?"
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